The old boatman felt in his pocket, and drawing forth the two Spanish dollars, insisted on returning them. "Them goes back into your pocket," he said, shaking his head, "Never shall be said Jack Flint charged an old comrade a sixpence for settin' him across stream." "Keep it, keep it, Jack. I have enough for both of us," replied Tite, motioning his hand for the boatman to return the money to his pocket. "Well, if you insist--an' I have to accept it, you see, it'll be out of respect and to please you." And he looked at the money doubtingly, shook his head, and reluctantly returned it to his pocket. The man now resumed his oar, and they proceeded on with increased speed. In less than half an hour from that time, they had landed at Nyack, and proceeding up the road had reached Bright's Inn, the two boatmen carrying the valise. Here they came to a halt, the men setting the valise down, while Tite seemed in doubt what to do next. Bewildered with the position he found himself in, hesitating and nervous, almost overcome by anxiety, his throbbing heart beat quicker and quicker the nearer he reached his home. But there was now a more violent struggle going on in his feelings. It was a struggle to decide between love and duty. Now he looked up the road in the direction of his home, and advanced a few steps. Again he paused and looked up enquiringly at the house. The old boatman had told him that Chapman lived there, when all the embers of that love he had so long cherished for Mattie seemed to kindle again into a living fire. And yet what changes might have taken place since he left? If, however, she still loved him, and was true to him, how could he pass the house, even at that late hour, without at least letting her know he was in Nyack? It was indeed late, and there was still a mile before he reached the home of his parents. He could have more time in the morning to meet Mattie, to unfold his heart to her, and to give her an account of the many strange things that had happened to him since he left. There was a bright light in two of the upper windows, but below the house was nearly dark, and Bright was in his bar-room, settling up the business of the day. Suddenly the light in the windows became brighter, then the shadow of a female figure was seen crossing and recrossing the room every few seconds. Tite watched and watched that flitting shadow, for he read in it the object of his heart's love, read in it the joy that was in store for him, perhaps--perhaps the sorrow. The figure was Mattie's, and it was her shadow that was causing him all this heart-aching. Now the figure took the place of the shadow, and stood looking out at the window, as if contemplating the moon and the stars, for nearly a minute. Yes, there was Mattie, watching and wondering what had become of the man who was at that moment contemplating her movements. Then the figure and the shadow disappeared, but it was only to increase Tite's impatience to see her.